


the best medicine

by fishpoets



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Barebacking, Bottom Jesse McCree, Fluff and Smut, Happy Sex, Laughter During Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Hanzo Shimada
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 09:05:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10590810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishpoets/pseuds/fishpoets
Summary: Hanzo and Jesse, a successful mission, a night alone together. Bad jokes and lots of laughter.





	

 

"Hurry up, Jesse."

 

Jesse chuckles as he pulls the keycard from his pocket. "What's the rush, darlin'?"

 

Standing beside him, Hanzo pokes him in the soft of his middle and huffs. He sounds irritated, but Jesse knows better. His cheeks are flushed a gentle pink, warm and rich under the orange-toned lights, and he's got a secretive little smile on his face, almost unnoticeable save for the tiny creases in the corners of his eyes. Both betrayers of his good mood. The pink is likely from the alcohol they've been savoring for the past hour or so, but McCree's willing to bet the smile is from the company.

 

The mission they've been caught up in for the past two weeks was wrapped up this afternoon, and Jesse wouldn't be exaggerating to call it a resounding success. Finding the data they were searching for was challenging but gave them minimal trouble; with it, Winston can provide the local authorities with conclusive proof that the Vishkar representative who's been cosying up to them recently is also buddy-buddy with cartels and weapons traffickers. Hopefully it'll be enough to prevent the mega-corporation from establishing a foothold in the city.

 

All this, and their enemies never even knew they were here. Two weeks and Jesse hasn't been shot at _once._ In his youth he'd've griped about a mission with so few near-misses, so lacking in blood-pumping violence, but he's older now and hopefully wiser. He's found other ways to make his adrenalin spike.

 

Case in point: two weeks alone with the archer, getting by on just their wits and competence. Watching each other's backs, relying on each other has been... _nice._ Just plain damn _pleasant_. They're a good team. They work well together, like they've been doing things this way for years. Jesse's still riding the high of it.

 

Hell, they're both in high spirits. The two of them went out earlier to celebrate a job well done, and when they couldn't agree on a restaurant they ended up getting phat kaphrao from a street vendor instead, taking their meal to the river. Jesse sat watching the water, spices bursting on his tongue as in between bites Hanzo regaled him with a story of the last time he'd been in Thailand. After they wandered the darkening streets, joking and teasing and enjoying the atmosphere, before heading back to the hotel bar for drinks. All in all, a more-than successful evening. One to remember. From where Jesse's standing, the future looks promising.

 

Feeling playful, wanting to tease, he pretends to fumble with the key. It takes only a moment for Hanzo to lose his patience. He steals the card from Jesse's hand, bends swiftly and hoists him bodily over his shoulder, grumbling under his breath as he opens the door with Jesse's surprised laughter echoing down the empty hallway.

 

Hanzo kicks the door shut behind them with his heel and flips the latch. He carries Jesse over to the bed, dumps him unceremoniously on his back, and proceeds to give the room a swift and thorough search for any signs of intruders while they were out. Jesse lies there watching, grinning like the smitten fool he is. If, by some slim chance, someone did manage to sneak in and plant a bug that's escaped Hanzo's eagle eyes, anyone listening in is about to have a hell of a show.

 

Satisfied nothing is out of place, Hanzo pulls off his suit jacket and hangs it over the back of the chair, brushing out the creases so it hangs straight. Next off is his tie, then his fancy watch and belt, then he rummages in his duffel and brings out a familiar dark blue zip-bag, which he tosses on to the bed next to Jesse.

 

The sight of it makes Jesse's pulse pick up. He wiggles out of his own jacket and lets it fall to the floor, then pries off his oxfords with his toes and drops them next to it. Predictably, Hanzo promptly picks both up, smoothing the jacket over the arm of the chair and leaving the shoes by the wardrobe with his own. He turns to the dimmer and lowers the lights.

 

Jesse smiles at him, full on good food and fondness.

 

"Tell you what, honey, this is goin' much better than the last time I went on a date."

 

Unbuttoning his cuffs, Hanzo raises a groomed eyebrow. "You'd call this a date, would you?" he says with a sharp little quirk of his lips.

 

"Wouldn't you? A good meal, good drink, good company.” Jesse stretches and folds his arms behind his head, nodding his chin significantly in the direction of the bag. “Toppin' off the night with a _very_ happy ending."

 

"Presumptuous. But you have a point." Hanzo rolls up his sleeves and stalks over to the bed, stands between Jesse's splayed feet, looking down at him. "So what happened last time? You got yourself into trouble, I suppose."

 

Jesse grins. "Got jumped."

 

Hanzo snorts. "Why am I not surprised." He closes his hands around Jesse's ankles and pushes his legs further apart, kneels neatly on the bed in the gap between.

 

Jesse quivers with anticipation as Hanzo asserts himself in his space. “Seems I have a habit of goin' for dangerous men with pretty faces.”

 

Hanzo shoots him an unimpressed look.

 

Jesse rubs his hands down his flanks, delighting in the shift of expensive cotton over hot, solid muscle.

 

“Hell, pretty everything, when it comes to you,” he murmurs.

 

Hanzo's stern mouth twitches. He breaks and chuckles, eyes slipping almost closed. He makes no complaint when Jesse rolls him over on his side so he can get to work on their buttons. As Jesse tugs Hanzo's shirt tails from his trousers he takes the opportunity to scrape his nails gently, feather-light, over the thin skin above his hip. Hanzo squirms.

 

“Stop it,” he demands. “You were telling a story; get on with it.”

 

“Well now, let's see.” Jesse wraps his arm around Hanzo's shoulders and tucks him into his side. “Imagine if you will: beautiful Montreal, just on the cusp o' summer, and an equally beautiful man – that would be yours truly – eager to see the sights...” He goes about recounting the story; how he, literally, bumped into a man coming off the metro, how they got to talking, how one thing led to another. For convenience sake he leaves out the loneliness he'd been feeling, not so long after he'd left Blackwatch and not yet adjusted to being entirely by himself. Downplays how he'd been hankering for company, how pathetically grateful he'd been to have someone show interest in him, however shallow. A connection to humanity.

 

Instead he hams it up, exaggerates. Purposefully botches his impression of the man's French-Canadian accent, because he knows it'll make Hanzo laugh.

 

As he speaks, Hanzo undoes the last of his buttons and slips the shirt off Jesse's skin, swirling his fingertips through his chest hair.

 

“A small blond thing he was,” Jesse says, “an' all sorts of bossy.” He smiles slyly at Hanzo. “Kinda reminds me of someone.”

 

Hanzo scoffs and pinches his nipple.

 

Hanzo's the sort of guy who tends towards seriousness. He runs hotter than he does cold, in Jesse's experience, but he's sure good at locking himself up tight, and his reputation for severity ain't exactly unfounded. In public, anyway. You wouldn't think it looking at him now, sprawled beside Jesse, propped up on one elbow, cheeks pink and eyes bright, his hair coming loose.

 

Jesse clears his throat and rambles on. “So there I was,” he continues, “standin' in my socks n' skivvies, one arm still in my sleeve. We'd had a good time together, I thought, and I was lookin' forward to the rest o' the evening, so you can imagine my surprise when he slipped a switchblade from god-knows-where and came at me like a bat outta hell.

 

"I dodged and said to him; 'I know some folks like to spice things up in the bedroom, but this is a bit much, don't ya think?' Well some folks just can't appreciate a sense o' humor.”

 

Hanzo hums. “Your humor is an acquired taste.”

 

“ _Anyway_ , we end up grapplin' – not the fun kind – I knocked him out cold then got the hell out of dodge. Turned out he was a bounty hunter, though hardly the best I've met.” Jesse twists and points at a scar on his side, just under his ribs, where the knife had caught him. "Still, he left me with a lil' souvenir."

 

Hanzo sobers as he reaches out, trailing his fingers along the pale raised line. “You were hurt.”

 

“Not badly. Only needed a few stitches.”

 

"You are a strange man, to find amusement in such things."

 

Jesse shrugs. "We lead dangerous lives. Gotta deal with it somehow." He'd ask if Hanzo had any good tales to tell about his own scars, except he already knows: most of the archer's scars, faded and old, come from one night, and that isn't a fun story at all.

 

The light in Hanzo's eyes is dimming, quickly turning pensive as he strokes the scar gently. Jesse sits up and catches his hands. He brings them to his lips, lays a line of quick kisses along his knuckles until he's smiling again.

 

"Heh, you're so cute," he says. Hanzo promptly scowls.

 

Jesse rolls him on to his back to kiss his pouting mouth properly.

 

Hanzo squirms and grumbles. He gropes beneath him and pulls the zip-bag out from under his back, reaches up to drop it on the pillows. Jesse gets all caught up on the stretch of tattooed muscle into the dip of his armpit. He shuffles closer and sticks his nose into the soft, shaved skin, taking a big whiff of Hanzo's musk, stronger here than his neck, where it's disguised by the hint of his cologne.

 

Hanzo's pec jumps at the touch. Jesse drags his mouth over the delicate skin, tickling with his beard, and follows Hanzo's tattoo over his shoulder and chest, down to the fronds of the tail, curled protectively around his nipple. He closes his lips around the soft brown nub and sucks. Hanzo sighs, tipping his head back. His hands come up to cradle Jesse's head against his chest.

 

Jesse sucks, then licks, then chews gently, worrying the dimpled flesh between his teeth so it peaks and hardens. He replaces his mouth with his fingers and shifts over to give the other nipple the same treatment, laving over it with his tongue. When Hanzo is boneless and distracted beneath him, he glances up.

 

The archer's eyes are closed, his lips parted on a sigh, serene. Jesse smirks.

 

He pushes Hanzo's pecs together, buries his face between them and blows an enormous raspberry.

 

Hanzo yelps. Anticipating retaliation Jesse grabs his arms and holds him down, pinning him with his weight. He keeps nuzzling him, rubbing his face over his chest like a cat until Hanzo's protests dissolve into laughter.

 

"Stop that, you ridiculous man!"

 

Jesse lets go of his wrists. He sets his chin on Hanzo's sternum and grins at him stupidly. “Just lovin' on you, darlin'," he chuckles.

 

Hanzo cups his cheeks in his hands and scritches his nails through his beard. Jesse hums in pleasure, hums louder when Hanzo tugs him up for a kiss.

 

Hanzo's tongue strokes confidently between his lips, hot and wet and full of possibilities. Jesse meets it with his own, happy to ride Hanzo's rhythm until his hips are moving on instinct, nudging his cock up against Hanzo's muscular thigh. He moans into Hanzo's mouth. It's mighty tempting to let the night unravel like this, kissing and rutting together, but Jesse has an agenda.

 

Hanzo makes a disgruntled noise in his throat but lets Jesse slip back to plant a close-mouthed kiss to the corner of his lips. From there Jesse migrates to his cheek, kisses both his eyelids and the cute little bump in his nose, his lips again, his chin and under his jaw, across to his ear.

 

“You're beautiful like this, you know that?” he murmurs, low and thick. Hanzo digs his nails into his back. Jesse nibbles on his earlobe, mouthing at the stud pierced through it. Then, getting his tongue good and slobbery, he licks right across Hanzo's ear.

 

This time Hanzo shouts and rears up, grabs him round the waist and tackles him over. They wrestle in the sheets until Jesse is the one pinned. Triumphant, Hanzo looms over him, dark eyes shining with mirth. His gaze dips to Jesse's exposed stomach and back up.

 

Abruptly, Jesse realises his miscalculation.

 

“Don't you dare.”

 

Hanzo's smile turns wicked.

 

“Hanzo, no, don't you dare-”

 

He digs his fingers into Jesse's sides and tickles him mercilessly, expertly avoiding his flailing limbs and ignoring his pleas until Jesse's laughing so much it aches.

 

“ _Alright, alright!”_ He taps the sheets. _“_ Have mercy on me, darlin', I surrender.”

 

Hanzo sits back on his heels. “Do not start fights you are not prepared to lose,” he says smugly.

 

Jesse lies there recovering, clutching his vulnerable stomach. “Y'ain't played fair,” he retorts, trying to catch his breath. “Resortin' to underhanded tactics, ticklin' a man when he's trustin' you.”

 

“How cruel of me. I apologise.” Hanzo pats him consolingly. “Perhaps I could make it up to you.”

 

“Hm, welp, I did have something in mind.”

 

“Oh?”

 

Jesse grabs blindly for the bag on the pillow, unzips it and tips out the contents. The lube bottle that tumbles out he shoves right into Hanzo's hands.

 

Hanzo snorts. “Eager.”

 

Jesse rolls his hips. “You know it,” he adds, somewhat unnecessarily. The bulge pressing insistently against the zipper of his slacks gets his point across well enough.

 

A minute to discard their remaining clothes and Jesse is being pushed back to the mattress, plied open with slick, clever fingers. He shivers at the cool touch, sensitive. Hanzo kisses his bent knee and pushes in a third.

 

Jesse strokes down his stomach to his cock and gives it a squeeze. He blows out a breath. He's barely been touched and already it feels intense. Pulling lightly at his foreskin makes him moan. He teases it over the reddening tip of his cock, smearing the liquid beading there, then brushes his fingers through his pubic hair, under his balls and lower to his rim, stretched open. Nerves sparking and heart aflutter, he fumbles for the discarded lube bottle.

 

Hanzo stills and watches, bemused, as he pries open the cap and squeezes a dollop into his own palm.

 

"What are you doing?"

 

"Lendin' a hand," Jesse grins, then jumps as he pours too much, spilling over cold on to his chest. "Oops – ah, fuck it." He rubs the mess into his chest with his metal hand and reaches the flesh one back down to his hole, probing his wet fingertips around Hanzo's knuckles. Hanzo obligingly makes room for him.

 

It's an awkward angle, made harder by the tightness of the fit, but the wrist strain is worth the look on Hanzo's face as their fingers rub together in the hot press of Jesse's inner muscles. His eyes are molten, staring at the point where they join. Jesse pants and spreads his legs wider.

 

"Hanzo-"

 

Hanzo growls, nips sharply at the inside of his thigh. Jesse slips his finger out and pokes him in the stomach.

 

"Hanzo, honey, think I'm ready for a good fucking, don't you?"

 

The magic words. He feels empty as Hanzo slips his fingers out and reaches over him for the condom on the pillow. Jesse's sorely tempted to give the sweet curve of his ass a good hard slap, but he resists. Doesn't want to derail this now he's about to get what he's been thinking of all evening. Hanzo leans back, sitting on his knees between Jesse's legs, and takes the little foil packet in hand.

 

Jesse licks his lips.

 

Hanzo frowns. He tugs at the wrapper again, trying to get it to split.

 

"..Fingers too slippery, darlin'?"

 

Hanzo grunts and tosses the packet at Jesse's chest with a soft _plip_. "You try."

 

Jesse wipes his fingers on his sides and has a go himself, but the foil is slick, the edges warped and squished from Hanzo's attempts. He can't get a good grip. Frustrated, he brings it to his mouth to tear in with his teeth – but then a stray thought makes him stop.

 

"You know, we uh..." he waves the condom and casts Hanzo a cautious glance, "we don't have to bother with this. If you don't want."

 

A little furrow appears between Hanzo's brows.

 

Jesse barrels on. "I mean, it ain't been long since our last check-up, and uh. I'm clean. You're clean." The foil crinkles in his fingers. "And I ain't plannin' on sleepin' with no one else but you, so..."

 

Hanzo shuffles a bit on his knees. He clears his throat.

 

"It will be messy."

 

Jesse stretches and peers down at himself, at the lube and precum shining in smears all over his torso, drying his bodyhair in curling clumps. "Don't think I'm much bothered by a bit o' mess, sweetheart," he says, looking back up at Hanzo's unsure expression with a soft smile. "But it's up to you. I'm game if you are."

 

Hanzo stares at him a moment, unreadable, then leans down and captures his mouth in a heated kiss. He snatches the condom from Jesse's fingers and throws it over his shoulder. It lands somewhere across the room out of sight.

 

Jesse huffs laughs against his lips, laughs which turns to breathy, anticipatory moans as Hanzo manhandles him, shoves a spare pillow under the small of his back and levers his thighs higher so his knees are almost touching his shoulders.

 

Turns out there's a lot of benefits to being Hanzo's lover. It's done wonders for his flexibility.

 

Hanzo crawls over him. Jesse quiets, biting his lip, eyelids heavy as Hanzo presses close, rubbing his cock, hard and burning hot, along all Jesse's most sensitive places. A quick nudge to adjust the angle, and Hanzo pushes in. The blunt pressure is familiar. Welcome. He relaxes into it quickly, lets Hanzo slide deeper.

 

Hanzo makes a choked noise above him. When Jesse looks up his jaw is tight, his eyes squeezed shut. His fingers clench into the meat of Jesse's thighs.

 

“Okay, hon?”

 

Hanzo exhales a rush of air, draws in a shaking breath. “You feel...” He shifts slightly, groans.

 

Jesse reaches up and strokes Hanzo's hair from his face, tucking the loose strands behind his ear. “More intense without a rubber, ain't it?”

 

“When did you..?”

 

“I was young n' stupid. Didn't care about the risks.” He squeezes gently around the length inside him. “Come on, ranger. You gonna put me in line or what?”

 

Hanzo peels his eyes open, pupils blown wide and dark. He drags his palms down to Jesse's hips, drags out almost to the tip, and pushes back in smoothly.

 

He sets a steady pace; a firm, easy rock of his hips, an unwavering flow of pleasure. His hands wander. They journey over Jesse's hips to his stomach, scratch through the hair on his chest and back down, kneading his flesh hungrily like he would touch all of him at once if he could.

Eventually his hands settle on Jesse's ass, where he lingers, taking greedy palmfuls and squeezing.

 

Jesse chuckles breathlessly. “Always figured you were an ass man. Guess I was right.”

 

“It is entirely your fault,” Hanzo growls. “You in those trousers, parading around all night. You do it deliberately. Shameless.”

 

“Hah!” Jesse gasps through a strong thrust. “Actin' like you don't like it when I know you do.”

 

“I do.” Hanzo scrapes his blunt nails down Jesse's thighs. “So help me, I do.”

 

“Tell you what else you'll like.” Jesse twists, flips them over so he's straddling Hanzo like a bucking bronco.

 

Hanzo narrows his eyes. “If you make a single cowboy joke...”

 

“ _Yeehaw_.”

 

His poor, long-suffering lover rolls his eyes and groans.

 

Jesse beams at him. “Gonna shut me up?”

 

As always, Hanzo rises to the challenge. He grips Jesse's hips in his strong archer's hands and drives up hard. Jesse's laughter cuts off in a gasp. He rolls back into it as Hanzo picks up the pace, using his leverage to pull Jesse down into each powerful thrust. Jesse drags his teeth over his lips and leans back further. His weight slides him deeper on Hanzo's gorgeous cock, tilted at an exquisite angle, pushing slick and hot inside him, nothing between them.

 

“Fuck yeah,” he pants, “that's it – right there- ah! Fuck, _fuck, Hanzo_ -”

 

It doesn't take long for him to be reduced to wordless whines. His frantic noises join the sounds of Hanzo's heavy, rough breathing; the creak of the bed; the slick, wet slap of their bodies. Jesse brings his knuckles to his teeth and chews on them desperately. He's always so much louder in bed than Hanzo, has to clap his palm over his mouth so he doesn't shout out his pleasure for the whole hotel to hear. His mouth is dry from gasping but he can feel drool and sweat trickling down his face, in his beard and down his neck, and he's so turned on it feels like all his blood is beating in his cock, thrumming and purple at the head, bouncing with each jolt of their hips. He's dripping wet, leaving thick drops of precum on the smooth muscle of Hanzo's stomach, pooling in his bellybutton.

 

Hanzo never misses a beat; as soon as the muscles in Jesse's abdomen draw tense, he squeezes his fingers into the fat at his waist and thrusts up harder, circling his hips. It rubs him deliciously against Jesse's prostate, sending sparks of sweet fire through his blood. Jesse shudders, cries, gets a fist on his cock and pulls roughly, chasing the slither of ecstasy. He hits his peak and comes hard, keening, pulsing thick, white stripes up his stomach and chest. One streak catches in his beard.

 

Hanzo growls, flipping them over before Jesse can catch his breath. He hitches one of Jesse's legs over his elbow and thumps into him, rough and rhythmless. Oversensitive, Jesse trembles, but he doesn't let his thighs draw inward, doesn't let his eyes squeeze shut, so he can watch every beautiful moment of Hanzo losing his composure.

 

He slows, face contorted in blissful agony. “Jesse,” he pants, “Jesse, I'm close-”

 

Jesse holds him as close as he can. “C'mon then, sweetheart. Give it t' me.”

 

“Jess-”

 

“You can come in me, baby, I want it. Mark me, mess me up, that's it...” Hanzo stares down at him, his eyes unfocused and swimming like pools of india ink, before they clench shut and he quakes, stills, comes with a silent cry.

 

After, they lie together, Hanzo's nose pressed to the hollow between Jesse's collarbones, breath hot on his already heated skin. Jesse strokes the bumps of his spine. Both his mind and body are hazy, sated and relaxed, though his hip is starting to protest the angle it's bent at.

 

He lets Hanzo recover for a couple more minutes before he squeezes down on him pointedly. Hanzo twitches and grunts. He props himself up, wrinkles his nose at the mess of cum and lube stuck to his chest. A drip of Jesse's cum is clinging next to his nipple. Pleased with himself, Jesse rubs it into his flushed skin with the pad of his thumb. Hanzo wrinkles his nose. He lifts up more and slowly eases himself out.

 

Separating makes a loud, rude squelching noise. They look at each other, Hanzo's eyes comically wide.

 

Jesse clears his throat. “Pardon me.”

 

Hanzo cracks. His face crumples and he folds over into Jesse's stomach, weeping and shaking and making funny, high-pitched hiccuping noises, laughing so hard he can barely breathe.

 

Hanzo Shimada, world class assassin and one-time heir to a criminal empire, reduced to tears by a fart joke.

 

Jesse swoons with affection as Hanzo collapses on the bed next to him, flushed and quivery and breathing heavy from amusement, all the hard angles of his face softened by his wide, toothy smile. He looks so comfortable. _Happy_. If it were in Jesse's power, he'd make sure he looked like this at the end of every damn day.

 

He rolls into him and lays a big, wet, slobbery kiss on his cheek.

 

“Ugh, disgusting,” Hanzo bleats. “You need a shower.”

 

“We both do, honeybee. Hate to break it to you but you didn't escape unscathed.”

 

Hanzo grunts. He wraps his arms around Jesse and snuggles closer. “Worth it.”

 

Jesse sighs, warm and content. He reaches behind himself as Hanzo's cum starts tickling down his thigh. Hanzo follows the movement like a hawk. He trails his own fingers down Jesse's spine and between his cheeks, pets him gently. Jesse hisses quietly as he pushes some of the mess back inside his sensitive hole.

 

Hanzo nudges his nose, angles in for a slow, lingering kiss.

 

“Mm.” Jesse give his tongue one last suck and pulls back to rest their foreheads together. “We should get cleaned up. Gonna have to leave housekeeping a hefty enough tip as it is; we don't wanna scar 'em too bad.”

 

Hanzo snorts, glancing around them at the mussed sheets. He wipes his fingers on Jesse's side and rolls out of bed. “A shower, then,” he says, stretching his arms above his head and giving Jesse an eyeful of the scratch marks on his back. “The rest can wait until morning. We have plenty of time.”

 

He turns and reaches back to Jesse. “Come on. Join me.”

 

Jesse takes his hand and follows.

 

**Author's Note:**

> can you tell I had no idea what to write for a summary??
> 
> honestly laughing and like, joking around during sex is one of my favourite things, so I wanted to have a go at writing it myself. Plus, it's one of the reasons I like these guys together so much - sure they have all these similarities, and they'd understand each other, but also I feel like they'd just have a lot of fun together, you know?
> 
> anyway, hope you enjoyed :V


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